Turn Me On Mr Deadman
by TheVampireLucinda
Summary: Too much leather is always a good thing. Slash! One shot. Complete!


**Title** : Turn Me On, Mr. Deadman

 **Characters** : Shawn Michaels/the Undertaker

 **Disclaimer** : Rated T! Slash!

 **Summary** : Too much leather is always a good thing.

 _A/N: This fic basically exists because ShawnMuse loves leather, and wanted to see 'TakerMuse in something sexy, LOL. Also, this is a present (of sorts) for my new readers. Thank you SO MUCH to all of my readers and reviewers, and a few of you especially! I write to please, and I love encouragement (though I promise never to demand or try to force it)._

* * *

Shawn Michaels stood in front of the full-length mirror for several minutes, checking himself out from all possible angles as the designers stood by nervously.

"Well... Do you like it?" the head seamstress asked, forcing herself to smile. She and a team of dedicated men and women had been working on everyone's ring gear for the upcoming pay-per-view event for nights on end. However, the day before the event was the final fitting, as well as judging if there needed to be any modifications.

"You know what, you've really outdone yourself!" Shawn said with his most charming grin, causing more than one heart in the dressing room to flutter. He turned his back to the mirror and smiled at the broken heart decals that ran up and down his white-and-gold tights. The metal-studded chaps fit perfectly as well, and the chain-linked top was perfect, showing off his abs just enough to make everyone want him to take the whole thing off.

"I think it makes me look great!"

There was a collective sigh from the designers, and the head seamstress shook the Heartbreak Kid's hand.

"I'm so pleased that you like it!"

Shawn gave her a wink, before leaning down closely to her ear. Jose Lothario could see him whispering something to her; something that made the woman blush and turn away with a giggle.

With a roll of his eyes, he took Shawn by the arm and pulled him, reluctantly, into the hallway.

"There's an old belief that if you have sex before a big fight, you'll lose," the older wrestler said bluntly, earning himself a rare shocked expression from HBK.

"Sex? Jose, I was just making a joke..." Lothario have him a skeptical look and Shawn pressed his hands together as if praying. "Trust me, sir...I won't be seeing any women before I face off against Sid."

Although he didn't trust Shawn's level of self-control, he trusted the man's word, and gave him an approving nod.

"Alright, then. I'll see you bright and early tomorrow. Sleep well, Shawn."

The Heartbreak smiled and gave his mentor a warm hug before they parted ways, Jose to his car, and Shawn to one of the private dressing rooms to change out of his ring gear.

However, as he slid out of the tights and into a pair of jeans and tank top, he could hear someone in the room across from him cursing quietly.

"Who the hell is here this late in the day?" Shawn wondered aloud, leaving his room and peeking into the other. Fortunately for him, the door was open just a crack, and he could see the figure of a tall man in the mirror.

'Undertaker!' he realized, feeling a flash of fear along with his surprise. Somehow, he imagined that the Deadman wouldn't take kindly to being spied on while getting dressed.

Still, Shawn couldn't help _but_ stare. The man was in all black leather, and was struggling to lace up both the sides pants and the front of the sleeveless top. His clothes weren't as tight as they could have been—in Shawn's estimation—but they certainly were form-fitting enough to get a rise out of the current WWF Champion.

'Uh-oh,' Shawn thought, looking down at the bulge in his jeans. 'Shit.'

Of course, it didn't help that the Undertaker's long hair hung partially in front on his face, the rest of it spilling in a dark, reddish-black cascade down his leather-clad back. And each time he moved, his locks swayed ever-so-slightly.

And, best of all, just below that waterfall of hair was the Deadman's beautiful ass, the leather hugging it perfectly in all it's plumpness and glory. As he stared, it occurred all at once to the Heartbreak Kid that he couldn't see the tell-tale lines of underwear or tights.

'I can't deal with this,' Shawn decided, turning on his heel to leave, blood running hot through his veins. 'I'm going to have to take care of things elsewhere.'

However, he at the same time remembered his promise to Jose and gave a frustrated groan.

Unfortunately for the Heartbreak Kid, his angry huff was just a _little_ too loud, and the Undertaker was over there in an instant, opening the door with confused green eyes.

"Michaels?"

It was more a question than an accusation, and Shawn realized that he just might make it out of there alive. Lady Luck was with him tonight.

And, of course, she wasn't the only one the Showstopper was planning on fucking with.

"Hey," Shawn said casually, willing his heart to stop racing. "I heard a few choice words coming from across the hall, and I thought I'd check it out...You okay in here?"

The Undertaker looked away, somewhat sheepishly—an interesting expression on his normally-stoic face for sure, and seeing it made Shawn's heart skip a beat.

"They gave me a new outfit for Survivor Series," he explained. "And it took me the past fifteen minutes just figuring out how to tie the damn thing up."

Shawn nodded in sympathy. "Maybe I can help?" he offered, pulling his most innocent smile.

'Taker raised an eyebrow, considering, but not yet convinced.

"Look, my ring gear is even more radical than that," the Heartbreak Kid pressed, indicating the tied leather ensemble. "I've become something of a professional at dressing in impossible clothing..."

Shawn could see that he was winning the battle, and after another moment of thought, the Undertaker shrugged.

"Sure, why not? I could use the help."

Mentally cheering, Shawn let himself in, taking his place by the mirror and motioning for the Phenom to stand in front of him.

He absolutely loved being so close to the big guy, and indulged himself in a nice long look at the man he now stood face-to-face with. Still, he couldn't keep eye-contact for long, lest his true heart be revealed.

"First off...the pants aren't really tied right...I can show you how to do it so that they won't fall off when you're in the ring. And the vest has more loops than you tied the string through."

The Deadman nodded. "I think I see your point..."

"May I?" Shawn asked, pointing at the long, hanging laces.

"Knock yourself out."

Hiding his smile, Shawn knelt in front of the Undertaker, and began to untie the laces on the leather pants. He let his eyes wander upwards, noting that his head wasn't as far as he thought it would be from the Deadman's no-doubt huge cock.

'And he's commando under all this leather,' his inner voice reminded him, forcing him to cough to hide the breath that caught in his throat.

'Maybe this wasn't the best idea...'

The Undertaker, for his part, wasn't even watching Shawn as he worked. In fact, he was thinking ahead to his match with Mankind, and envisioning all of the ways he would make Paul Bearer suffer when he finally got his hands on him. It had been a rough several weeks with the betrayals and attacks, and the only thing the Deadman wanted, the only thing that would give him peace, would be to get his hands around Paul's throat.

However, he was dragged quickly out of his dark thoughts by the feeling of Shawn's hands ghosting expertly up his long legs as he tied the laces. It was soothing, almost, the light touch; although the lithe fingers seemed to be reaching for something a bit too close to his inner thigh.

At first, 'Taker assumed that it was an accident, but when it happened again, he couldn't help but flinch away.

"Sorry," Shawn apologized, although his smile never faded, and he was forced to keep it carefully concealed by his own golden hair. "I have to adjust the fit a little."

'Taker nodded once more, folding his arms across his chest. "No problem, I've been fitted before," he said non-nonchalantly, although a feeling of unease was slowly forming in his chest for reasons he didn't entirely understand.

So far, he and Shawn had never clashed inside, or outside of the ring. He had no reason to mistrust the Heartbreak Kid...but he also didn't have any clear reasons to trust him either.

Especially when he could catch a glimpse of the fire burning in those bright blue eyes. He wasn't entirely sure what that _look_ meant, but it couldn't mean anything good for either of them, given Shawn's reputation.

The Undertaker jumped again, Shawn's hands now dangerously close to groping his butt as he tied the top of the pants near his hips. More than the touch itself, the knowledge that it was Shawn's hands on him was making his heart rate increase ever-so-slightly.

He didn't even want to think about why.

"Michaels..."

"Almost done," Shawn answered quickly, tying up the last strands expertly. "Now, I just need to lace up the vest."

The Heartbreak Kid stood up straight, and pressed both his hands on the Undertaker's firm chest. He lifted his head slowly, attempting to count the loopholes, when he suddenly found himself staring into the wonderfully green eyes of the Undertaker.

Although Shawn had planned to say something witty, all thoughts fled from his mind as their gazes locked.

"Beautiful," he whispered, unable to hide his expression of awe.

The Undertaker was, for a moment, completely stunned. He couldn't look away. Had Shawn's eyes always been this beautiful?

'Wait...did he just call _me_ beautiful?'

A long moment passed in which neither man dared move. They didn't even breathe.

Shawn was the first to snap out of it, blinking and then quickly turning his attention to the long laces of the leather top.

"This is beautiful ring gear, I mean," he lied haltingly, fingers fumbling. "This is quality leather, you know? And it fits you well..."

He could actually hear the Deadman sigh in relief now that the tense situation had been diffused.

But for some reason, it made Shawn a little sad.

'Is he that happy that I'm pretending that I wasn't calling him beautiful?' he wondered.

Just thinking about it made him a little angry, too.

"Actually," Shawn Michaels declared aloud, taking a step back when he finished with the lacing. "As good as this outfit looks—and trust me, Deadman, it looks _damn_ good—it looks even better because it's own you."

The Undertaker blinked and shook his head. "Shawn, what the hell...?"

With a guilty smile, the Heartbreak Kid shrugged. "Look, I'm going to be honest with you: I came in here because you're hot, and I wanted to feel you up before I went home tonight."

When he wasn't knocked out immediately, Shawn continued.

"But I realized half-way in that I liked and respected you way too much to do that to you. So...I'll see myself out now. Sorry for being a creep, and good luck tomorrow."

Shawn turned on his heel and walked quickly back to his own dressing room. Thankfully, his bag was packed, and he could make a quick exit. Even though the Undertaker didn't seem angry—in fact, he seemed more confused than anything—he figured it was best to get out while luck was still on his side.

* * *

'Damn...I didn't even get to first base with him,' HBK thought with a sigh and a shake of his head. 'Ah...I'll just have to entertain myself with the memory, I guess.'

The moment his hand reached for the doorknob, however, there was a short knock. Shawn was confused until he opened it; then he saw the Undertaker and was more scared than anything else. However, the man still didn't look upset. He still seemed puzzled.

"Hey, I just wanted to say thanks," he explained, not looking him in the eyes. "Thanks for helping me out. And for being honest. You are, indeed, a creep."

Shawn laughed incredulously. "You're not pissed?"

"If I was, I would have kicked your ass already."

"Fair enough."

"But...you helped me to forget about Paul and Mankind...And I haven't been able to stop thinking about them for weeks now. So...thanks."

Shawn smiled sadly. "I'm happy to distract. But, hey, man...for what it's worth, you deserve better."

Decidedly avoiding eye-contact, the Undertaker scratched the back of his head. "So, uh...For tomorrow, I'm sure I won't be able to get this shit on again...Will you give me another hand?"

Shawn, still somewhat stunned, nodded happily. "It would be my pleasure. Hell, if it makes you happy, I'll fix your hair up for you too!"

"Sounds good," the Deadman said with a nod of his own. "I'll come to the arena early. We can talk about our matches, or...whatever. Just don't grope me without permission, okay?"

"I'll be there at 2pm," Shawn promised, feeling his heart swell this time...instead of other areas. "And I'll try my best not to be a creep."

A small smile ghosted across the Undertaker's lips before he turned to go with a nod. Shawn watched him fondly, wondering what the future would hold for them both.

Without a doubt, this man was someone that maybe, one day, he could really have genuine feelings for.

For now, however, he was content with staring at that perfect ass clad in black leather.

"Damn!"

* * *

 _The End!_

 _If you watch the match, you'll notice that 'Taker was doing a lot more technical wrestling...and his hair was tied back like Shawn's. Hmmm...LOL_


End file.
